Sentiment's Place
by elfmaiden4legs
Summary: ****As John once so rightly pointed out Sherlock and Mary have a lot in common, and for this reason she always seems able to bring the consulting detective out of himself in a way nobody else can. So what will happen when a heavily pregnant Mary, now on maternity leave, tries to convince Sherlock that she and John and their unborn daughter still need him in their lives?


**Sentiment's Place**

"You know Sherlock," Mary turned to the world's only Consulting Detective early one cold January evening, a small smile curling the corners of her gentle lips. Sherlock looked up as she spoke, startled by the broken silence – in the darkness of the room, lit only by the flickering flames of the yellow and orange fire, she thought that she could see his eyelids slowly start to close but he was clearly trying to resist his body's urge to sleep, "that night I shot you, you told John that it was sentiment that stopped me from killing you…" She considered.

Sherlock frowned, and she appeared to avert his probing gaze for a moment. He seemed confused, as though he didn't quite understand why it was that she had decided to open up this can of proverbial worms now when things had seemed to be going so well for her and John, and the three of them had settled back into life as though the events of a few months ago had never happened – but he could also see that there was something preying very heavily upon her mind, and which she evidently felt the need to get off her chest, and so he decided to break the habit of a lifetime and let her speak.

Sherlock liked Mary, and she liked him. For what it was worth if John had really had to marry someone he was glad that it had been her. She had an alluring antithesis of danger and domestic prowess, and over the past few weeks had steadily somehow managed to bring her husband's best friend out of himself in a way that it seemed nobody else could. Sherlock seemed to respond to her, and now that his wife was on maternity leave John had encouraged her to spend as much time as she could with Sherlock.

"When I heard your voice," She explained, "and turned to see you standing behind me in that office that evening my heart froze. I admit that for a few split seconds I didn't know what to do. Your presence complicated things. Of course the easiest thing would have been to have killed you and Magnussun whilst I had the chance, and then make my escape – nobody need ever have known that it was me in that room that night – but I never had any intention of killing you. It wasn't just for John, although I admit that it did occur to me that he would have been implicated in the crime, and that your death would break his heart – but apart from that it was because I care about you too. I was not sorry for shooting you, but sorry for having to hurt you in order to keep you safe."

"Mary?" Sherlock frowned. She could tell that she was making him uncomfortable, John had explained to her in the early stages of their relationship that Sherlock had never been very good with words or understanding human emotion. He favoured facts and figures over subjective perceptions. The unmeasurable seemed to frighten him, but Mary thought that Sherlock probably needed to hear what she had to say now more than ever. The baby was due in just a few weeks and the Consulting Detective had become increasingly more withdrawn, increasingly less communicative with John and increasingly more isolated.

She got the feeling that there was probably a lot more pain in his heart, and a lot more going on inside that most complex and perplexing brain of his than he would ever have been prepared to let on.

"Of course I also knew that if I didn't shoot you, Magnussun would have," she explained "and he _would_ have killed you. I don't suppose it ever occurred to you Sherlock that if he'd found you in his office that night going through his files then he would never have let you live long enough to speak of what you might have found… but that was not the reason I pulled the trigger.

You gave me no choice, and I have hated myself every day since for what I did to you, but you were right, I could have killed you that night, and I didn't…"

"Mary…" Sherlock faltered, his voice catching in his throat as he spoke, and his eyes pleading with her not to say anymore. He sat, rigid in his seat with surprise, not knowing how to respond.

"I didn't because I love you Sherlock." She continued, unswayed by the Detective's less than receptive response to her words. "I love you as John loves you, as a friend – one of only a few I have ever had. You see you _were_ right on one point Sherlock, it was sentiment that prevented me from killing you that night, but you failed to factor in one thing – that I could care for you as well as John, that not every decision I make now revolves around the fact that I love my husband."

"What exactly are you trying to say Mary?" Sherlock sighed wearily. She looked into his tired eyes and wondered why he didn't just admit defeat and go to bed. She wouldn't think any the less of him for it, but he was doing his best at trying to be super human again.

"I am telling you Sherlock that me and John, that the baby, doesn't change anything when it comes to you. You're still a very important part of our lives. We both still love you as much as we ever did. I couldn't kill you that night, and neither of us can live without you now. I have liked you from the first moment we met in that restaurant and I could see that everything John had ever told me about you was true. I hoped then that you would accept me, and you did. Now neither of us has any intention of losing you."

"Who said that you're losing me?" Sherlock asked. "If I had any intention of abandoning John then I wouldn't have bothered coming back."

"But you feel as though he's abandoned you don't you?" She asked – Sherlock directed her an incredulous look. "You came back expecting everything to go back to how it once was, and instead you discovered that everything had changed. I know you haven't said anything to John about what happened to you throughout the two years you were away, but I can bet it was no holiday. I've been there myself Sherlock, I've lived amongst the worst dregs of society and been witness to the most depraved of human behaviour – on the receiving end of it more than once – but you're home now Sherlock, you're amongst people who love and care about what happens to you. Don't push them away. You mean so much to the both of us – you see I may have told a lot of lies about who I really am in the past but my love for John, how much I have come to care about you, that's all real, it's always been real and we want our daughter to grow up knowing just what a great man Sherlock Holmes is."

Sherlock looked at Mary and a small smile curled his thin and pale lips. He looked so sad, she thought – or maybe it was just the shadows beneath his tired eyes in the dim light of the room which gave that impression, for despite the fact that he didn't say anything it seemed as though sentiment had its place – even in Sherlock Holmes' heart.


End file.
